Draco's Footprints
by alyssialui
Summary: Draco contemplates his footprints in the snow. A three-shot.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Draco contemplates his footprints in the snow. A three-shot._

_Submission for:_

_**The Holidays Challenge: **Draco's footprints in the snow_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>The little blonde five-year-old ran and jumped and skipped ahead of his parents as they walked through the snow-covered garden behind the Malfoy Manor. Though all the flowers had lost their blooms and leaves, and the tall evergreens were frosted in white, his mother still loved to frequent her garden in the Winter. "The snow just makes everything seem so calm and quiet," she would say. Draco didn't care. He just loved to run in the fluff.<p>

His laughter was the only sound that was heard for miles around, his parents just smiling at his playful antics. Children were only young once so they may as well enjoy it.

"Be careful," he heard his father call out from behind him when he almost stumbled on a buried root. His small gloved hands flew out in front of him in an effort to break his fall but he quickly recovered.

He scowled down at the offending obstacle before turning back to his parents. Their worried expressions quickly vanished when they saw he wasn't hurt. Then he looked down at the trail of footprints leading to his current place with his parents' quickly catching up. He noticed how his prints were smaller, closer together and more excited, while his parents' were steady and further apart.

Draco ran back behind his parents and began to walk in his father's footprints. His shorter legs could barely stretch to reach between two consecutive prints, causing him to sometimes have to make two steps to equal one of his father's. He stepped as hard as he could in the prints, but his weren't as impressive or big in comparison to the originals.

He looked ahead at the ever-growing trail of his parents' footsteps, his father's strong ones leading his mother's softer ones. Draco promised himself that one day, he would be able to match his father's footprints in the snow.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Draco contemplates his footprints, again. Time jump to Draco's fateful Sixth Year._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>The snow crunched noisily beneath the soles of his expensive dragonhide boots as the blonde teenager walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was a cold Winter morning and Draco needed a break. He had to get out of that prison of a castle. He hated it here and would have loved to have gone home for the holidays like his classmates but there was a job to be done, a job he should have completed already, but was still unable to.<p>

He kicked a small mound of snow in irritation. Why was this so difficult? Why was _he_ asked to do this? When he had first gotten the job, he felt honoured, thrilled even, but now he knew he was just being naive and childish. No one should be thrilled to be a hired assassin.

But he just couldn't do it. He had made one attempt already that almost hurt another student and he couldn't get that bloody cabinet to work. He had been doomed to fail from the beginning. Maybe that had been the Dark Lord's plan all along, and Draco would pay the price of his inadequacies with his and his mother's lives.

He landed face first not a moment later on a stone half-buried in the snow. With a scowl, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked over his shoulder. He could see his trail of footsteps leading to his spot, evenly-spaced and heavy.

Draco pushed himself up onto his feet and walked over to one of his footprints. He could remember wishing when he was younger that one day he could fill his father's footprints in the snow. His feet had been too small then, his prints too light, but now they were long and deep, just as his father's had appeared to him those years ago.

He pressed his foot into one, making the indent deeper, but instead of feeling the accomplishment his five-year-old self thought he would feel, Draco just felt sick. Now that he had been forced to do it, to grow up before his time, Draco wished he didn't have to.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Draco contemplates his footprints one more time. This is the end of the three-shot. I hope you enjoyed it._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>The blonde haired man walked steadily behind his five-year-old son as they headed home from the nearby park. His wife had asked him to take little Scorpius out of the house for a few minutes so she could tidy up and get some work down around the house without being interrupted or the mess growing. Draco had just chuckled, bundled up the little grinning boy and opened the door, allowing Scorpius to lead the way.<p>

The little boy loved the snow almost as much as he did as a child so it wasn't long before all hell broke loose. He ran and tumbled in it, uncaring if it got in his hair or inside his jacket. Sometimes, Draco even thought he ate some purposely. Draco would have to talk to Scorpius about that after dinner later.

But now, their time at the park was done and he hoped Astoria had gotten everything how she wanted it before he and the little monster entered the front door. Draco watched the little boy ahead of him, running as fast as possible and within his father's allowed boundary. He wanted him to be free not in danger.

Then Draco looked down at the little trail of footprints he left behind that were so much like his own as a child as well. They were light, haphazard and very close together, as a child's should be. Draco pressed his larger one onto one of Scorpius'. Now he had become the father, his footprints more impressive and deeper than his son's.

Was he happy about that? He had survived his father's legacy and made one for his own. He had survived the end of the war and made a life with his wife and his son. He had moved on now. He was no longer following his father's footprints, or wishing he could or wasn't. Now he was leaving his own behind for his son to follow in, if he so chose.


End file.
